


Lovers of Dawn

by Evangelitsa_67_98_00_01



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon VI Targaryen and Jon Snow are Siblings, Aegon VI rides Rhaegal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother/Brother Incest, Dark Jon Snow, Dragons are Fire made Flesh, F/F, F/M, Fire and Blood, Game of Thrones Fix-It, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, M/M, Mad Queen Cersei Lannister, Protective Jaime Lannister, Season 7 Canon Divergence, Season 8 canon divergence, The North Remembers (ASoIaF), The North believes in House Stark, The Others are magic, Warg Jon Snow, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26508709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evangelitsa_67_98_00_01/pseuds/Evangelitsa_67_98_00_01
Summary: Jon Snow. King in the North.Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of his name, Rightful King of the Andals and the First Men.Daenerys Targaryen, the First of her name, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, the Mother of Dragons.Three dragons. Three Targaryens.Three enemies.
Relationships: Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Snow/Aegon VI Targaryen, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 58
Kudos: 247





	1. Jon Snow I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rough draft of what this story is going to be like so... I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

The battle for Winterfell had cost them a life before it even started. The life of Rickon Stark, the youngest child of Eddard Stark and he was shot with several arrows, impaling him savagely. He was a boy still, barely old enough at the time to even remember what his mother looked like, who his father was and who was staring at him from across the battlefield. Jon Snow, the bastard son of Ned Stark and the previous 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, could only stare as Rickon dropped to the ground with no more than a choked gasp before his heart stopped. Ramsay Snow smirked, lowering his bow and tilting an eyebrow in challenge. Silence until Jon Snow shouted his orders and the battle began. 

It was bloody, the Free Folk did not abide by the rules of war. They hacked and they swung their great weapons, cleaving the heads off Ramsay’s men and taking pleasure in their screams. And at their front, was Jon Snow, Longclaw in hand and with elegance and skill unseen since the Sword of the Morning, cutting through enemy men like they were nothing more than children trying to fight with swords for the first time. Dead bodies piled atop each other and Wun Wun, covered in thick leather plated with armour, was hammering down on the enemy with his fallen tree trunk and killing them by the dozens. The battle was in Jon’s favour and Ramsey, with his pride and inability to care, ordered his bowmen to shoot at his own men for the sake of killing Jon’s.

But Jon was smart. He yelled for the Free Folk to use anything they could to cover themselves. Including the dead bodies that littered the field. Jon lifted a fallen shield and held it steady, watching as several arrows struck it with enough force for the arrow heads to come through the thick wood and steel a few inches. Knowing that the bowmen had to nook, Jon called out for the Free Folk to disperse, making as much space between themselves as they can while keeping themselves safe from the arrows and some of Ramsay’s men that had not been killed by their own. Jon ran forward, Wun Wun at his side and Ghost at his heels, weighted by armour but still as swift and lethal. One swing from Wun Wun caused the line of bowmen to break and caused enough distraction for the Free Folk to gather their wits and start fighting forward towards the front lines. 

Ramsay was nowhere in sight but when Jon blinked through the haze of blood and dirt he saw him, riding towards Winterfell. Jon growled, slashing through the last of the bowmen before running after him. As he looked back to check on his people, he smirked when he saw Tormund absolutely decimating Ramsay’s men and he was glad to notice that there weren't many left. The most important piece was Ramsay, who ran away with his tail between his legs once he knew that he was not going to win the battle. A coward. 

The gates of Winterfell were strong and through thousands of years held back men who dared try and enter unwelcome but Jon had lived in Winterfell for fifteen years, he knew the gates and its functions. Ramsay nor his father knew that the gate had to be properly manned every week to keep its strong holding and condition but they had killed all who could do so, and Jon knew that the loyal Northmen would not willingly divulge that information to them. Thus, Wun Wun smashed through it like he was running through a bush of thin leaves. There was no men in the courtyard but there was Ramsay Snow. Jon stared at him, his light eyes turned dark with rage and Ramsay talked, trying to anger him, making him so furious he couldn't think. But Jon’s rage didn't make him lose his consciousness, it made him think so sharply that he could win a battle with anyone at that moment. And he did win, beating Ramsay into the ground with his bare fists alone, smashing his head multiple times against the cold, hard floor that the people watching wondered how Ramsay was still alive. But then there she was, Sansa Stark, staring as her bastard brother beat the monster who had made her life a living hell for months with so much rage that his eyes went black. 

And then he stopped, fist raised mid strike, staring down at the unconscious Ramsay whose face was unrecognisable. He fist dropped and he rose, staring at Sansa for a moment before walking to where Wun Wun and Ghost had sat down, resting but vigilant. 

Ramsay’s men had lost, the Free Folk had won and the Knights of the Vale who charged into the fight last minute were not needed and only killed two men, who already injured and who would have died minutes later from the blood loss. Ramsay was dragged to a cell and Jon ordered the Knights of the Vale - with bloodied fists and a bloody face - to search Winterfell for any remaining Bolton men and to secure the castle. Any wounded Free Folk were attended to by the elders of their people and there was enough room in Winterfell to house them all. The great Northern castle was not bustling with people like it had been, the Boltons killed anyone and everyone left, and before that had been the Greyjoys. 

The night had been cold and unfamiliar. Jon had taken up residence in the Lord’s bedchambers and there was next to nothing left that belonged to his father. Jon couldn't bear the thought of Winterfell belonging to anyone but House Stark, so he made sure that everything that belonged to the Boltons was burned and destroyed. With time, Winterfell will once again be as glorious as it once was during its prime. Ghost, clean and without his armour, laid before the large hearth and warmed his damp white fur. Jon could not sleep, had never been able to since he breathed life after his death. Which meant that it wasn't a surprise when there was a soft knock at his door and he opened it to see Sansa swaddled in fur and smiling weakly. Jon knew that Ramsay had done horrendous things to her and it wasn't surprising that she couldn't sleep, even in her own home with the Bolton’s snuffed out. And so they sat before the fire and nursed their own cups of ale. 

“We’re home.” Sansa said quietly, as if she couldn't quite believe it and thought herself dreaming. 

“Aye.” Jon nodded. 

“What are you going to do now?” Sansa asked.

Jon didn't fail to notice the undertone to her question. “I’m a bastard. I helped you take back Winterfell because it's your home. Robb is dead, Rickon is dead, and we don't know where Bran is. There are no sons left to take up the mantle of Lord of Winterfell.”

“Not Lord. King.” Sansa corrected and the grip on her ale tightened. 

Jon sighed. “The meeting with the Northern Houses will decide that. But for now, I will do all I can to make sure Winterfell and the North stabilises.”

“Northern Houses.” Sansa scoffed. “Two betrayed us and the rest did not help.”

“I don't blame them.” Jon said. “They fought with Robb in his war and all the Houses in the North lost brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers because of it. House Stark was not the only family to lose a father, a brother nor a sister. We can't punish them for protecting their family and people.” Then he added. “Don't forget House Mormont.”

“House Mormont gave us men but you didn't order them to the battlefield.” Sansa frowned. 

“They gave us less than a hundred men. They were more useful outside the battle field than in it. I wasn't going to let a hundred men die needlessly.”

“I understand, Jon. I do.” Sansa's eyes turned cold. “But House Umber needs to be punished,”

“And what do you suggest?”

“Take their land and keep, make someone who is truly loyal to you the Lord of Last Hearth.” Sansa spoke confidently but Jon frowned at her words.

“What you’re suggesting will only cause outrage within the North.” Sansa went to speak but Jon stopped her. “No, Sansa. House Umber made a mistake and they paid for it with the lives of their men and Lord. They choose who they believed to be the winning side, to protect themselves from Ramsay’s wrath. They have lost enough, the North has lost enough. I will not take a family out of their home and cast them to the woods during the beginning of Winter.”

“Jon, people will see your mercy as weakness.” Sansa pleaded, painfully so. 

“My mercy is strength. I have given people mercy and they spat on it. I do not offer second chances, Sansa. If House Umber were to decide to betray us a second time, I will not show mercy.”

Sansa didn't look happy and Jon didn't particularly care. Sansa left quickly after that, muttering a stiff goodnight before returning to her chamber. Jon sighed, slouching in his chair and watched as Ghost breathed in his sleep. Sansa had never been nice to him as a child and he knew that one of the only reasons she was being civil towards him was because he was the last sibling she had left. But he was also Ned Stark’s only son known to be left alive, even if he was a bastard. Sansa, despite seeing how truly corrupt people of power were in Kings Landing and in Winterfell, still desired to become Queen. Jon could see it in her eyes, the way she looked at him when he commanded his men and spoke to the Free Folk and ordered the Knights of the Vale. Jon did not love Sansa but he didn't hate her either, and he knew that he didn't trust her. Sansa had not told him about the Knights of the Vale riding towards Winterfell to assist in the battle and Jon had been furious when she revealed to him that she had spoken to Petyr Baelish, the Lord of the Vale, who offered to send his Knights weeks ago. As it turned out the Free Folk did not need any assistance with the battle but if Jon had known about the Knights he would have changed his plans to accommodate them. Many lives of the Free Folk would have been saved if he had. 

And Rickon was killed as he ran towards Jon with a hopeful expression, believing that Jon could save him. But he didn't. Jon blamed Sansa for his death and his rage burned hot enough to light a fire within him when she didn't seem to care about his death. Many outcomes could have gone different if only she told him about the bloody Knights of the Vale. But then he was glad that they arrived when they did, Jon did not want to be indebted to Lord Baelish, Littlefinger. 

Rickon was going to be put to rest beside his father and brother in the crypts of Winterfell. House Stark had lost its Lord and Lady, its King and now its youngest son. Jon didn't know where Bran was and Arya had been missing since their father’s execution in Kings Landing, he could only pray to the Old Gods that they were alive. 

Jon did not get any sleep that night.

* * *

The weeks that followed were filled with cleaning and burning the dead bodies from the battle and Jon ordering men around to repair Winterfell. The Boltons did not care to fix the damage the Greyjoys had done and added their own damage on top of it. Winterfell was thousands of years old and the records of its building were in Winterfell's library, which Jon used to help the men with their already hard jobs. Jon was happy to find that the Glasshouse was in perfect condition and on his way found Lady Catelyn’s sept for the Seven Gods, frowning as he thought of the woman. He removed the sept. It was the North and Winterfell especially was no place for the Gods of the South. 

When all the Lords of the North finally arrived at Winterfell, it was a shock when by the end of their discussion when they all unsheathed their swords and knelt, proclaiming him King in the North. And as they cheered and shouted Jon looked at Sansa from the corner of his eye, her expression was flat and cold, her eyes glaring daggers at the Northern Lords and behind her stood Baelish. Jon exhaled an angry breath before he dismissed the Northern Lords with a polite nod. 

As soon as Jon walked outside and he was alone with Sansa, he spoke. “I told you that I wasn't going to punish House Umber. You're my sister but I am King now.” Jon felt strange when he said it. 

“Will you start wearing a crown?” Sansa raised an eyebrow. 

Jon sighed through his teeth. “You questioned my decisions in front of the Lords and Ladies of the North. You undermine me when you do so.”

“I can't question your decisions?”

“You can, in private. Not in front of the Northern Lords who just proclaimed me their King.”

“Joffrey never let anyone question his authority. You think he was a good King?” Sansa asked.

Jon stopped walking, grabbing onto the railing with clenched hands. “Do you think I’m Joffrey?”

Sansa sighed. “You’re the furthest person from Joffrey-”

“Then don't compare me to him.” Jon's face was cold but his eyes held fire. 

“I’m not! The people respect you, the Wildlings follow you, the Northern Lords proclaimed you their King because of your strength. You’re good at being King even before you were one.”

“Thank you.” He held back his tongue from spitting harshful words when she called the Free Folk wildings. 

“But you have to-”

Jon chuckled harshly. “Don't try and finish that sentence, Sansa. You know what Father used to say. _ Anything before the word but is horse shit _ . And what's said afterwards.”

“He never said that to me.”

Jon nodded. “No. He could never curse in front of his girls. Even Arya.”

“He always tried to protect us. He never wanted us to see how dirty the world really is but father couldn't protect me.”

“What did I say about the word  _ but _ ?”

Sansa sighed. “Jon, I’m not trying to undermine you. You have to be smarter than Father. You need to be smarter than Robb. I loved them, I miss them but they made stupid mistakes and they both lost their heads for it.”

“Aye, they did. But I’m not them. I was a brother of the Night’s Watch for years, Sansa. You don't survive that without being smart. I was its Lord Commander. I trusted people that killed me. After everything I’ve been through, I know well enough to not make stupid mistakes. And one of those mistakes would be allowing you to undermine me, your King.”

Sansa’s eyes widened and her lips pursed, ready to speak in anger but the Maester coughed, interrupting them. Jon sighed, nodding to the older man. 

“A raven from King's Landing, Your Grace.”

Jon grabbed the scroll and unrolled it, reading from it aloud. “Cersei of House Lannister, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jon sighed, turning away and walking until he was standing above the gates of Winterfell, staring out into the snow covered land and forests. Sansa followed him silently, waiting a moment as he stared before asking. 

“What does she want?”

“Come to King's Landing. Bend the knee or suffer the fate of all traitors.” Jon recited. 

“It's been weeks, she would have heard that Winterfell had been retaken by House Stark.”

Jon nodded. “She’s smart enough to realise that we wouldn't bend under her rule.”

“I know Cersei. If you're her enemy she’ll never stop until she’s destroyed you. Everyone who has ever crossed her she’s found a way to murder.” Sansa said.

Jon tilted his head, analysing her. “You sound as if you admire her.”

“I learned a great deal from her.” Sansa admitted with a sigh. 

Jon turned back towards the open land. “Cersei Lannister to the South. The White Walkers to the North. Both enemies but only one has the power to kill us first.”

“Don't underestimate Cersei.” Sansa warned. 

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “I haven't. But Cersei is a Southern ruler. Her army could march North and die before they reach Winterfell. They do not know the lands nor Winter like we do. But the White Walkers, the dead, they thrive in the North. As long as the Wall stands we have time, valuable time to prepare for the fight that will come. But don't think me a fool. I won't forget about Cersei nor will I underestimate her. I know what she’s capable of but she doesn't know the same about me.”

* * *

Jon had heard of Howland Reed from his father. They were close friends but after the Rebellion that killed Ned’s siblings and father, it was clear that he had closed himself off from everyone but those who lived in Winterfell. What he knew of the man was that he was the Lord of Greywater Watch and the only survivor besides his father when they had fought the Sword of the Morning in their attempt to find Lyanna, Ned’s sister. 

It was a pleasant surprise that the man himself travelled from his home to the far North, when even during the War of the Five Kings he had not left Greywater Watch. He was short and his face was kind, lined with age and deep sorrow. Jon greeted the man in the Lord’s solar, seated next to him by the fire with Ghost at Jon’s side. Sansa was not present and Howland seemed glad that Jon had ordered her leave. 

“Howland Reed.” Jon smiled. “My Father told me about you.”

The man smiled, kind and warm. “All goods things?”

“Very few.” He answered honestly.

Howland chuckled. “Of course. That’s like Ned.”

“I apologise for not recognising you. He never told any of us exactly what you looked like.” 

Howland shrugged, chuckling. “All is well.”

“Not that the pleasantries aren't nice, but I’m more curious about why you are here, my Lord?” Jon questioned, hand outstretched to finger through Ghost fur. 

Howland eyed the movement before smiling sadly. “When I had received a raven from Winterfell announcing that it was once again home to House Stark, I cried. The North has suffered for years and House Stark was almost believed to be completely eradicated. Knowing that the Boltons are gone and House Stark once again made peace within the North, my heart had never known so much relief.”

“Aye, it is a relief to us all.” Jon agreed, nodding faintly. 

Howland continued. “When I read further it was revealed that the bastard son of Ned Stark had reclaimed Winterfell with an army of Free Folk, a giant and a direwolf at his side. Jon Snow, King in the North. The White Wolf, they call you. I had fought with Ned in Robert’s Rebellion and that war had crippled me. Robb’s war was not one I could fight myself and maybe, if I had he would still be with us. But I try not to dwell on the past…”

Jon was getting worried. “Lord Reed, why are you here?”

Howland blinked wet eyes. “Because, I made a promise to myself. Ned died and you were a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, far from my reach. But I swore if I ever had the chance to meet you, I would take it. I promised myself I would tell you. I promised myself that I would tell you what Ned could not.”

Jon’s grip on Ghost’s fur tightened and the white direwolf nudged against his side, worried and sensing his swirl of emotions. 

Jon’s grip eased. “Howland, what is it that my Father never told me?”

“Who your mother is?”

Jon's light eyes widened. “My… mother..?”

“Yes, your mother. Lyanna Stark.” 

Jon felt like someone had gathered all the water from sea and dumped it on him, swallowing him whole and drowning him in its cold embrace. Lyanna Stark, his father’s sister, his own mother? 

“No, Father would never-!” Jon denied but Howland raised a shaking hand. 

“Ned Stark is not your father.”

Jon shook his head slowly, another sea of water drowning him. “No.” He whispered. 

Howland smiled, barely reassuring, and grabbed one of Jon’s hands. “You are the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. Ned had fought his way through three Kings Guards to get to his sister, only to find her in a bed of blood with a newborn babe at her side. Ned saw Robert Baratheon’s smile over the mutilated bodies of Rhaegar’s two children. He couldn't bear the thought of the same happening to you. So he named you Jon Snow, his bastard son, and raised you in Winterfell at his side where you were safe and far away from Robert and his Targaryen bloodlust.”

Jon couldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it. All his life he had been Jon Snow, bastard son of the honourable Ned Stark, the only stain on his father’s honour. He joined the Night’s Watch and swore his oath for life, and his Father - his Uncle - had allowed him to, knowing who Jon really was. He wasn't just a Stark bastard, he was a Targaryen one. 

“I’m still a bastard.” Jon said, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“No,” Howland shook his head and smiled truly. “Lyanna had married Rhaegar in the Isle of Faces. I know because I was there.”

“What?” He whispered in disbelief.

“I didn't tell anyone, not even Ned. Their union was of Ice and Fire. It was sacred.”

“Rhaegar Targaryen already had a wife. Elia Martell who gave him two children.” Jon blinked and two tears trailed down his cheeks. “Why?  _ Why _ ?”

Howland squeezed his hand. “Their love was accidental but pure. Lyanna was promised to Robert but she knew she could never love him. He had already fathered a bastard and Lyanna was wild, Robert would have tried to tame her. Who else could understand? Rhaegar. His marriage to Elia was never one filled with love. Rhaegar did not hate Elia, he cared for her but he loved Lyanna.” 

“Rhaegar loved Lyanna and thousands died for it.” Jon hissed. 

“I can never justify what they did. Lyanna had sent several ravens informing her family and Robert about her choice to leave with Rhaegar. None of them were ever received.”

Jon breathed deeply. “Someone intercepted them. And doing so caused Robert to rage, thinking that Lyanna had been kidnapped and thus, starting the Rebellion.”

“Yes. Robert never loved Lyanna, he only loved the idea of her and her beauty.”

“Did they name me?” Jon asked, hesitant and eager simultaneously. 

“If you had been born a girl, your name would have been Visenya. But Lyanna, with her last breath, whispered your name.” Howland paused, breathing through his own tears. “Jaehaerys.”

Jon laughed and cried at the same time, holding onto Howland’s hands while his other rested on Ghost. Jaehaerys. At least Ned made his own name similar to the nickname of Jaehaerys. Jae, Jon, Jae, Jon. He repeated in his head. 

“I can’t…” Jon - Jaehaerys - smiled shakily. “I don't want to believe it but I do. Gods, I do. Everything makes sense, it all connects.”

“I apologise, Jon-”

“Don't.” He interrupted. “You don't need to apologise to me. I understand, I do. It’s just… difficult to process.”

Howland smiled, sympathetic and warm. “I did not agree with many of Ned’s decisions regarding you and your wellbeing. I feel like a coward for never attempting to contact you.”

Jon sighed. “If you had attempted it would have been unsuccessful. I spent a great deal of time beyond the Wall and many brothers of the Night’s Watch were not fond of me. I never would have received your raven.”

Howland nodded. “Aye.”

“What was she like?”

“Beautiful.” Howland sounded wishful. “A cold beauty, with her dark hair and grey eyes. She was teased in her youth for how she looked but she grew, making everyone second guess if she was the true Lyanna or if someone had swapped the true daughter of the Lord of Winterfell with another. She was a natural rider, everyone used to say that she was half a horse herself.”

Jon smiled, imaging Lyanna - his mother - when she was young. Riding a horse like she was born to, a white horse with her dark hair and long face with a childish glee. He felt his heart ache with want, a need to know who she was. He could never meet her but the memory of her alone was enough to satisfy - for now. 

“How did she meet Rhaegar?” He asked.

“The tourney at Harrenhal. I had been bullied by a group of men before the beginning of the tourney and Lyanna had defeated the knights they had served. She was the Knight of the Laughing Tree, as the people called her.” Howland laughed at Jon’s slacked jaw. “Aye, she was. She cried when he sang at the feast, with his harp and Valyrian features luring even the men to his side. The peace did not last, of course. King Aerys ordered the Knight of the Laughing Tree be found and brought before him. While he did not have to say it, everyone knew that he wanted to kill the Knight. She had come to me to help hide her armour but it was Rhaegar and his guard, Ser Arthur, who found us first.”

“He didn’t take her to his father, did he?”

“No.” Howland looked sad as he continued. “They talked and he let us leave, claiming to his father that the Knights armour was found with nobody in sight. The search was nothing but a memory the day after. Then Rhaegar crowned Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty, placing the laurel of blue winter roses in her lap with his lance. All the smiles died. Mine did.”

“But the tourney at Harrenhal was months before the start of the Rebellion. It couldn't have been the beginning.” Jon said and Howland sighed, staring into the fire. 

“Oh, I wish it wasn't.” Howland whispered regretfully. “King Aerys was not a good king and at the time, his enemies were growing until more than half the kingdom was against him. Not publicly but we all knew. Rhaegar had planned to talk to the Wardens and Lords of the Seven Kingdoms at Harrenhal but the King's sudden appearance had halted all plans. Rhaegar’s curiosity towards Lyanna did not waver after Harrenhal, despite everything he had wanted. And he received. They sent ravens back and forth for months when Lyanna chose to leave Winterfell and meet Rhaegar several leagues from Harrenhal. They had both sent ravens to Lord Rickard but none were received.”

“Then everything flew from there. Lord Rickard’s death and Brandon’s. Jon Arryn responded to the threats against Robert and Ned.” Jon listed. “All of Aerys’ enemies received ravens of the open rebellion and sought their chance to unseat the King from the Iron Throne.”

Howland nodded. “Yes. But I want you to know Jon, that despite all the horrible outcomes of the Rebellion, there was still happiness.”

Jon smiled bitterly. “What happiness? All I know is death.”

“You. Rhaegar and Lyanna had married in the Isle of Faces. Their love made you and they loved you more than anything.”

“How could you know that?” He asked, throat thick with upcoming tears. 

“Because I was there. I was their witness for their marriage.” Howland stated solemnly. “And I saw it when Lyanna caressed your cheek with bloody hands and watched you until her last breath.”

Jon’s breath escaped him with difficulty, tears in his eyes and so many questions in his mind. He was loved. He was wanted. But he was the outcome of a love that began a rebellion that destroyed House Targaryen and killed thousands of innocent people. The rebellion killed his grandfather and uncle, it killed his father and mother. Jon closed his eyes when he heard childish laughter. How could he forget? His siblings. The daughter and son of Elia and Rhaegar. His older siblings. Both dead at the hands of House Lannister, both dead because of the rebellion. Mere babes, one that had just left the arms of his mother. Elia Martell, raped and butchered. All that death and the happiness could not be seen from within the mountain of bodies and rivers of blood that drowned Westeros. 

“I’m a Targaryen.” He whispered to himself.

“And a Stark.” Howland added with a bittersweet smile. “You cannot forget that you are as much your mother's son as you are your father’s.”

Jon chuckled. “Aye.”

Ghost nudged at his side and he smiled, ruffling through his thick white fur. “Don’t worry, boy. I’m sure you can remind me just how much a Stark I am.”

“If only you had a dragon to do the same for your Targaryen heritage.” Howland said, all smiles and jokes.

But Jon remembered the ravens that Sam used to read to Maester Aemon - his Great Uncle - about Daenerys Targaryen. The last Targaryen exiled in Essos who had apparently hatched three dragons. What he wouldn't give to have one dragon, he couldn't imagine three.


	2. Aegon VI Targaryen I

The sea was calm and ships were all anyone could see for miles. The ships that carried the army that would take back the Seven Kingdoms from the hands of his enemies.  _ Their enemies _ , he reminded himself as he stared at Daenerys who was talking with her advisor and friend, Missandei. Her army of Dothraki and Unsullied took up a majority of the ships but Aegon had his own army behind him. The Dornish and the Golden Company. He had sent a raven to Sunspear and knowing very well that he could be considered a pretender, provided memories he could faintly remember of them from when he was but a babe at the breast. Of his mother and her smile and the time his Uncle Oberyn had shown him a rarer poison that he coated the tip of his spear with. A raven back gave him relief, they did not believe him a pretender and with Jon Connington at his side, they were more than happy to provide their army. A few dozen ships had shown through the horizon several weeks after with Dornish sails. The Golden company were several thousand men and a dozen of their elephants, who Aegon was happy to meet. 

And then there was Daenerys. His aunt and the woman that claimed the title of Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, before he had met her. The meeting had been an interesting affair, one filled with harsh words and distrustful looks on both sides. Jon was most harsh and Aegon held his wince at some of the  _ delightful  _ words he used towards his aunt. He was thankful that he kept a level head and made arrangements with her. Aegon knew from Lord Varys that his grandmother, Queen Rhaella, had crowned Viserys the new King of the Seven Kingdoms at Dragonstone once knews reached her that Rhaegar had fallen on the battlefield. Viserys had then named Daenerys his heir and so Aegon himself was third in line by that time.  _ Now the second _ , he thought. 

He was raised to become the King of the Seven Kingdoms, to take back what was taken from him with Fire and Blood. He would have no mercy towards his enemies and he would be a good and kind leader to those under his command and rule. But Daenerys and her dragons had made him rethink many things. She was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne but if Aegon knew Westerosi politics - which he did thanks to his lessons - he knew that many would not take her seriously and would rather a man be on the throne than a woman. That man would be him, who was the next in line for the Iron Throne after her. But it would cause a war between Targaryens and he did not want a repeat of the Dance of Dragons. Especially when she had three dragons, so Aegon compromised. He gave his word that she could proclaim herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms as long as Aegon could proclaim himself the King. They would not marry but be partners and rule together, to the great benefit of both parties. 

Meereen was a beautiful city, not the first time he had seen it but because of Daenerys’ rule, the people were happier and with the Sons of the Harper eradicated, there was peace once again. They had talked as much as they could together, to get to know one another and their lives. They were family and the last Targaryens. They had to be strong together. If they couldn't show a united front then it would be a weakness their enemies could exploit. Aegon wasn't embarrassed to admit that Daenerys wasn't at all what he expected but as he talked to her more, she was becoming as close to him as a sister. 

Their armada was the largest in recent memory and Aegon knew that their allies would only grow. They had the Dornish - courtesy of himself - and they had the Iron Islands. Their army was unformidable, with the ruthlessness of the Dothraki and the skill of the Unsullied as well as the more Westerosi type fighting from the Golden Company. 

A roar echoed followed by two more and Aegon smiled, staring at the magnificent creatures that flew above them. Drogon, Daenerys’ favourite child and chosen mount, flew close to the ship they were on. No doubt keeping an eye on her and Aegon’s smile widened when Rhaegal glided past, roaring in greeting before diving into the sea for a meal. He never thought he would ever see a dragon, let alone three but there they were. Beautiful and dangerous. House Targaryen’s beloved sigil was alive once again. 

Meeting the dragons in Meereen had caused doubt in his mind but as soon as the dragons allowed him to be close and Rhaegal had placed his growing head on his lap, all his doubt vanished into ash. It was not that quick and he didn't expect it so. _ A dragon is not a slave _ . He had to earn Rhaegal’s trust and especially because of Daenerys’ locking the green dragon and Viserion beneath the pyramid. They had not allowed her to touch them for weeks and Rhaegal allowed Aegon before Daenerys. He had yet mounted the dragon and he did not plan to, not until they arrived at Dragonstone where he could fly above the castle and admired the ancient foothold of his house. 

Rhaegal and Viserion’s time outside the pyramid was beneficial to their health, they had grown twice their size in the last few weeks they were in Meereen. Drogon flew them to where he hunted, no doubt to strengthen their unused wings and to help them hunt the correct food for their health. Their time at sea was even better, as they flew for most of the day and the three dragons grew to the size of the ships they rested on.

Aegon thought it ironic that his chosen mount was Rhaegal, the dragon named after his father and was as green as the banks of the Trident where he fell. Aegon and Rhaegal would get their vengeance on every person who had caused the downfall of House Targaryen, of the people who had killed his father and murdered his mother and sister. 

“Thinking pleasant thoughts?” Daenerys asked, her braided hair flowing behind her as she stopped by his side.

Aegon smiled. “Pleasant. A good word to use when regarding the death of our enemies.” 

Daenerys smirked. “There has been little else but that on my mind also.”

“Rhaegal and Drogon are getting restless.” He stated.

“We will be home soon.” Daenerys’ eyes seemed to sparkle as she stared at her children. “Ser Barristan says that it would be no more than a week until we reach Dragonstone. Yara says the sea favours us.”

“Our luck then.” Aegon smiled, resting his arms against the wood of the ship. 

“Yes.” 

“Time is slow.” Aegon began. “It seems like yesterday when we met but the anticipation of arrival causes the days to lengthen.”

“When we step foot on Dragonstone for the first time, all that time will be worth it.” Daenerys said, smiling wistfully. “I only know what Dragonstone looks like from Viserys and Ser Barristan.”

“I had been there as a child, a babe in my mother's arms.” Aegon told her. “A child’s memories are short and blurry but I remember the carved dragons in the walls, the hearths always bright with fire and the tapestries that hung on the walls.”

Daenerys closed her eyes, smiling. “It brings me happiness to know that our House is not gone from this world. I was prepared to be the last but I always feared what would become of the kingdoms once I’m dead. I can’t have children, the dragons are the only children I will ever have but dragons cannot sit on a throne and rule seven kingdoms.”

“They could.” Aegon said. “They would just eat everyone.”

Daenerys chuckled. “Yes, they would. But your appearance gave me hope and now that I know you are truly my nephew, our house can live on.”

Aegon knew that he was the one to bring Targaryen’s back into the world and he knew that an alliance in Westeros would most likely be built on a marriage proposal with him. He knew that he wouldn’t marry a random highborn lady for an alliance and he was sure if the lords made any complaints, their dragons would convince them. As Viserion’s golden scales reflected on the water, Aegon worried for the dragon. Daenerys and himself had found their mounts with Viserion’s brothers but there was not another Targaryen to ride the dragon. 

Jon had told him how Rhaegar had talked about the three heads of the dragon but Rhaenys was dead, she would have been the third had she been taken to safety like he had. As Aegon and Daenerys watched the dragons in silence, Viserion roared north. 

* * *

Dragonstone was more than he remembered it ever being. It was truly magical, made during the time of Valyria and no castle could rival it. Its stones were dark and he saw the tall towers and the carved dragons and the white sanded shore. Daenerys was wide eyed and unblinking at his side, staring at the castle she was born in, the ancient seat of House Targaryen. Three roars made Aegon smile as Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion flew ahead of them, circling the towers of Dragonstone. As the dragons roared and thrilled in happiness, Aegon thought then, that their dragons flying above Dragonstone had never been a more magical sight. 

As the boat stopped at the shore, Aegon did not hesitate to step off and kneel beside it, touching the sand with trembling fingers and a racing heart. Daenerys’ hand was warm on his own as she joined him, staring at the sand with a kind of awe that reminded him of a child. They stood together and together they walked to the entrance, staring at the realistically carved dragon heads that guarded the large gates. Two Unsullied walked ahead and grabbed the dragon carved handles and with grunts, pulled the large doors open. Aegon’s breath left him and he did not blink as he walked forward, staring at the stone stairs that ascended to the castle. As they walked, Aegon’s light indigo eyes reflected blue as he stared at the waves crashing against the rock and stone of the long strip of mountain they were walking on. 

The halls were quiet and cold, the Unsullied walked ahead to light the torches and candles. Aegon was thankful that their companions chose not to speak, sensing that Daenerys and himself needed to truly take in the sight of their home. They stopped before two large doors, carved with dragons and Aegon frowned at the sight of the doors being so dirty. Two Unsullied grabbed a handle each and pushed them open, revealing the throne room. The throne itself was made from the very mountain the castle was built upon. The floor was dirty but he could see the delicately carved Targaryen sigil that covered the stone floor. 

The last Targaryen’s stared at their ancestral seat of power, in disbelief and awe and victory. Aegon was the first to walk up the stairs leading to the throne and walk around it, walking the passageway that led to an open door. He could feel the sea breeze and smell the salt and smoke in the air, smiling when he entered the room and saw the Painted Table. It was the Chamber of the Painted Table, the room where Aegon and his sister planned their invasion of Westeros. The room, like the entire castle, was unkempt and dirty. Aegon was going to make one of the first priorities cleaning the castle and decorating it with Targaryen belongings, setting anything that once belonged to the Baratheons on fire. He was sure Daenerys would agree. 

He was Daenerys out of the corner of his eyes staring at the large dragon carved in the wall, its mouth open with burnt candles and straw. Its eyes were a dull red and with a thorough clean he was sure they would look like the rarest of red stones. He trailed his fingers lightly across the painted map, his fingers coming back with dirt and dust and grime. Stannis Baratheon’s battle plans were still in place and many of his wooden figures had fallen due to the wind and storms that would have ravished the island upon his death and ultimate failure.

Daenerys and Aegon stood at the head of the table, staring forward at their respective companions. Ser Barristan and Jon Connington, Rakharo and Grey Worm, Ser Toyne and Tyrion Lannister, and Daenerys’ most trusted advisor and dearest friend Missandei of Naath. 

“Shall we begin?” 

Aegon and Daenerys smirked.

* * *

Dragonstone was a large castle and its rooms went further beneath the earth that can be seen from the outside. Daenerys and Aegon took residence in the Stone Drum tower, and he appreciated that they had their separate chambers. Their advisors and friends were placed in the Sea Dragon tower, and the remaining chambers and rooms were immediately taken by several dozen Dothraki women and Dothraki warriors, Unsullied guards, Golden Company men and Dornish soldiers. Their armies were too large for the castle and so Daenerys ordered her Dothraki to place their camps along the expanse of the island along with the Unsullied. A majority of the Dornish army and the Golden Company had to remain in their ships and their food and water would be periodically brought to them. Until they reached the mainland they could do nothing else. A large part of the island was taken by Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion, who were very territorial and no one but Aegon and Daenerys were willing to come closer. They had placed Unsullied and Dothraki to guard along their territory, the only people not afraid of getting close to a dragon. The Unsullied were used to them and the Dothraki were fiercely protective of their Khaleesi’s children.

Aegon’s Dornish allies were the first to arrive after they settled, in their company were Arianne and Quentyn Martell, and Ellaria Sand. They were all beautiful, with their dark features and striking elegance. Aegon himself inherited his father’s Valyrian hair and indigo eyes but his build was more muscular and his skin a dark contrast to his hair. Ellaria was the first to mention his similarities to his mother. 

“You have her nose.” She said and he chuckled. 

“Aunt Ellaria.” He smiled and she beamed, hugging him tightly. 

“Aegon.” She breathed. “I remember when you were a babe at the breast.” 

They parted and Arianne was the next to greet him. “Dear Cousin. It broke my heart when my father first talked about Elia and her children to me, knowing that I could never meet them. But your letter sparked hope inside us all.” 

Aego didn't hesitate to bring the young woman into his arms. She was a short and curvaceous woman and he was sure that many men and women lusted after her. 

“It is good to meet you, Arianne.” Aegon turned to Quentyn.

“Do I have to call you  _ Your Grace _ ?” 

“Yes.” He smirked.

Quentyn’s blank face lightened into a chuckle and the Dornish prince launched his way into Aegon’s arms, patting his back and laughing. Aegon was smiling as he pulled Quentyn towards the dragon gate and watched his face slacken at the sight of Dragonstone. Dorne was a magnificent place but nothing could compare to the architecture and magic used to make Dragonstone by the dragonlords and sorcerers of Old Valyria.

“Welcome to Dragonstone, my Lord and Ladies.” 

They ascended the stairs and Aegon smirked just as Rhaegal flew over them with a mighty roar, startling them and their guards. The dragon’s roar turned into a delighted screech and Aegon chuckled at their wide eyes as they stared at the green dragon fly higher into the sky, joining his brothers. 

“Ready to meet their mother?”

Aegon couldn’t contain his amusement as they walked through Dragonstone’s recently cleaned halls and when they reached the Throne Room, they stopped before the doors. He inclined his head towards the Unsullied guards and they reached out and pushed open the heavy iron doors. Daenerys stood before the dragonglass throne with Missandei to her right and Rakharo and Grey Worm to her left. Aegon joined Jon and Ser Toyne at their place the steps below the throne. Daenerys was the one being introduced to strangers, people that she didn't know and had never met. Aegon was more inclined towards them because of their shared blood and Ellaria’s relationship with his Uncle Oberyn.

“You stand in the presence of the Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khalessi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains.” Missandei announced with a clear voice. 

“Your Grace, Princess Arianne of House Nymeros Martell, Prince Quentyn of House Nymeros Martell and Ellaria Sand.” Aegon announced. 

The Dornish entourage bowed and Arianne and Quentyn noticeably didn't go low, keeping their backs straight and heads forward. Dorne may be held under the rule of the Seven Kingdoms but they were still in their own right, royalty. Daenerys looked like the Targaryen Queen she was, with her black scaled dress and red sash and her long silver gold hair braided back into a crown. She didn't look offended by the display of pride and power by Arianne and Quentyn, and Aegon was glad that Jon and Ser Barristan helped her with her knowledge of Westeros and its politics. She was not ignorant before but if she did not get told by Jon about Dorne then she would have taken the bowing display as an insult. 

“Your Grace,” Arianne began, “My brother and I are here on behalf of our father, Ruling Prince Doran, with an offer of alliance.”

“Princess Arianne.” Daenerys clasped her hands together. “I know that with Aegon’s sudden appearance that Prince Doran has pledged himself to his cause the moment the truth of his birth was proven and that your offer of alliance to me is merely a generosity.”

“Prince Doran had never broken faith with House Targaryen. House Lannister and House Baratheon are the perpetrators of his sister and her children’s murder. He, more than anyone, wants to see them brought to justice. And doing that means taking their seat of power. What better way to do that than align himself with the family they took it from. After your brother’s death and the birth of your dragons, his fealty went to you.” Arianne told. 

Daenerys nodded. “So his offer of alliance is genuine?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Ellaria answered. “Prince Doran is a patient man but his patience can only stretch so far.”

“Forgive me if I assumed otherwise.” Daenerys said. “What does this alliance entail?”

Arianne answered. “Prince Doran has written that he will pledge the remainder of his army to you. The fleet of men that was sent to Aegon in Essos will remain with him and are under his command. Prince Doran has written since Aegon is alive there is no need for a marriage alliance between House Martell and House Targaryen unless chosen. But he concludes that Dorne is still its own country and while it is part of the Seven Kingdoms by marriage, it is not conquered.”

“Of course.” Daenerys agreed. 

“Prince Doran, however, specifically stated that the remaining loyalists of House Lannister be given to him for a trial of justice. The Mountain was maimed and nearly killed by Oberyn in single combat but remains alive. He is the man that killed Elia and Rhaenys, and almost killed Aegon as a babe.” 

“The Mountain will be yours.” Daenerys said. “Aegon and I, along with my children, will see your justice served.” 

The Dornish smirked. 

“Daenerys.” Aegon spoke and the woman herself raised a perfect pale eyebrow. “My dear cousins and aunt have had a long journey by sea. The finer details written by Prince Doran can be seen to and discussed at a later time, as I'm sure our guests need to rest and settle their bearings.” 

“Of course.” Daenerys smiled at their guests. “My Unsullied will show you to your rooms. A warm bath will be drawn for you in your chambers and food will be offered to you.”

“I would love a bath.” Arianne commented. “The smell of the sea has left an imprint on me.”

“Do you want me to join?” Ellaria asked. 

Arianne’s dark eyes sparkled. “You are most welcome.”

Aegon chuckled and watched fondly as they were escorted out by several Unsullied, chatting away with Quentyn rolling his eyes. Daenerys was immediately by his side and her face was tight when she spoke. 

“Prince Doran may side with me but the reason we have his army is because of you.”

Aegon sighed. “Daenerys, more than half our army comes from you. More than seventy thousand mounted Dothraki, more than ten thousand Unsullied and three large dragons. You could win this war in less than a moon's turn if you wanted.”

“But I won't.” She said.

“You won't.” Aegon repeated.

The Lannisters' allies were depleting quickly. Dorne was allied with House Targaryen. House Tyrell sent a raven offering an alliance, and Lady Olenna and her grandsons were already on their way to Dragonstone. House Baratheon, as far as Aegon knew, was extinct. Robert, Stannis and Renly Baratheon were dead, killed one after the other. Yara and Theon Greyjoy had pledged themselves to Aegon and Daenerys. The only kingdoms left were the Vale, the Riverlands and the North. 

The North specifically were going to be difficult to approach. Aegon knew what happened with Lyanna Stark and his father, how he kidnapped and raped her. The Mad King had burned the previous Lord Stark alive and made his son watch with a rope around his throat, the man choked himself to death trying to reach his father. Aegon wanted to prove that he was different and that Daenerys was not like her father.

* * *

Olenna Tyrell was a fierce and cunning woman. He knew immediately that the woman certainly earned her title of the Queen of Thorns. Her grandsons, Willas and Garlan, were handsome men and despite Willas’ crippling injury inflicted upon him by Oberyn he harboured no ill will towards House Martell. Arianne was especially pleased to meet him and the Tyrell heir blushed a brilliant shade of red when she began to flirt with him. 

The Chamber of the Painted Table was almost full. Olenna, Willas and Garlan sat at the Reach. Arianne, Quentyn and Ellaria sat besides Dorne. Yara and Theon stood behind the Iron Islands. Tyrion was seated by Casterly Rock. Daenerys and Aegon were seated at the head of the table. Grey Worm and Rakharo stood behind Daenerys, and Connington and Ser Toyne stood behind Aegon. Missandei and Ser Barristan stood beside them. And a recent addition to the island was Lord Varys. The Master of Whispers to the Mad King and Robert Baratheon. The man had smuggled him out of Kings Landing but had helped Robert Baratheon in his attempt at killing Daenerys and Viserys, multiple times. No one trusted him and they had all the right not to. But Aegon and Daenerys understood that he was useful, his little birds were everywhere and through them did they gained valuable information. 

“Who’s loyalty remains with Cersei Lannister?” Aegon began. “The Frays?”

“Only because of Tywin are the Frays loyal, Your Grace.” Varys said. 

“Because they gained something in return for doing what..?” 

“The Red Wedding.” Tyrion swallowed. “The Frays and the Boltons betrayed Robb Stark, the King in the North, despite their guest rights. Almost every one there was murdered and butchered.” 

Daenerys clenched her jaw. “They will have to be dealt with.”

“The Frays are not a focus of concern.” Olenna waved a delicate hand. “The Baratheon’s are gone and the Stormlands cannot afford to rebel against her, not after Stannis and Renly failures.” 

“The Stormlands are an outlier then?” Aegon raised a silver brow. 

“Currently? Yes.” Varys nodded. 

“The Vale?”

“Lord Peter Baelish is the current Lord of the Eyrie. He is standing regent for Robert Arryn, the previous Lord’s sickly son.” Arianne told them. 

“And pledged the Vale’s allegiance to House Stark.” Varys informed them. 

Daenerys frowned. “And what of House Stark, Lord Varys? How is the North?”

“After the Red Wedding, Winterfell was given to House Bolton and Roose Bolton was named Warden of the North. Many of the Northern Houses were angry, the Red Wedding had killed many of their Lords and Ladies, and had successfully killed their King. Though none of them could do anything, with the North in a state of disarray and no Stark to be seen, they had trembled under Bolton rule. Then Sansa Stark was married to a legitimised Ramsay Snow and according to my little birds, he had also killed his father along with his new born brother.”

Theon visibly shook at the bastard’s name. 

“Sansa Stark escaped to Castle Black where her bastard brother, Jon Snow, was Lord Commander. He gathered an army of Wildlings and attacked Winterfell, successfully taking back the North from the Boltons. Ramsay was then eaten alive by his own hounds. Per Sansa Stark’s request.”

Many eyebrows lifted at that. 

“The Northern lords then named Jon Snow their King.” Varys smiled. “If I remember correctly, Jon Snow had been legitimised by Robb Stark in his will and named his only heir.” 

“Jon Snow, the King in the North?” Tyrion couldn't have looked more flabbergasted. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I thought that leaving your post at the Night's Watch made you a deserter, which is punishable by death.” Aegon said. “And he was Lord Commander?”

“I do not have many birds in Castle Black, Your Grace but reports from Winterfell say that Jon Snow was pardoned from the Night’s Watch for fulfilling his duties.” 

“But a Night’s Watch oath is for life.” Willas stated, a frown marking his handsome face. 

Daenerys spoke. “While I am interested in how it came about, I am more focused on the fact that the North have proclaimed themselves an independent kingdom.”

Olenna began, “The North will not be swayed to your side. Especially if Sansa Stark is whispering in her bastard brother’s ear. That girl may not be smart but she has sense.”

“Jon did not have the best relationship with Sansa.” Tyrion inputted. “I travelled with him to the Wall and Sansa was - or is - my wife. I do not believe that, if she attempts to do so, her manipulations would work on Jon Snow. She may not be the little girl she once was but she isn't as crafty as Littlefinger when it comes to secrets and truths.”

“We cannot leave them be.” Aegon glared. “The North is part of the Seven Kingdoms. We have to focus on Cersei but we cannot do that until the North bends the knee to our rule.”

“You cannot focus too much on the North or you will lose sight of the South, Your Grace.” Ser Barristan said. “I’d recommend you send a raven to Winterfell and set your eyes back on Cersei. Gathering your allies and strengthening your armies is crucial.”

Aegon nodded and Daenerys spoke. “It is decided then. Our focus is Cersei and taking the Capital.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” It was agreed upon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, so let me know how you feel about it. I really just wanted to publish another chapter so this may be edited later on. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	3. Jon Snow II

The Boltons were not kind to Winterfell. The reconstruction of the castle was taking far more time than Jon anticipated but they were doing more than fixing it, they were strengthening it. The walls could hold off a full armoured army but he did not think the same could be said when it came to the Others. He had not told the Lords of the North of the threat beyond the wall and he did not plan to until he had solid proof of it. The children of the North grew up on the stories of the Long Night and the Others, and that was all it was to them, stories. Northerners were a stubborn people and trying to convince them without evidence would be like pouring water into a bottomless bucket. No, he had to focus on strengthening the Northern armies and their keeps. Jon was glad Winterfell’s glasshouse was untouched and he nearly sneered when he saw Catelyn’s southern flowers she had planted there. He removed them himself. The glasshouse needed all the space it could possibly use for growing food for the people. Animals were starting to hibernate and the hunting parties he’d sent came back with less and less kills every week. Jon was thankful that Ghost was kind enough to find a few deer and an especially large boar one week. Everything went to use and their skins went into making warmer clothes for the women and children. 

Howland was a welcomed presence in Winterfell and despite his earlier revelations, Jon enjoyed the short man’s company. Sansa had questioned him about his arrival at Winterfell and Jon answered simply, ‘ _ He is a Lord of the North, Sansa. Why wouldn’t he come to Winterfell? _ ’ She didn't appreciate his clipped tone but he was not in the mood to care. He had recently been told that his entire life had been built on a lie and the knowledge that Ned Stark had allowed him to join the Night's Watch knowing full well who he was and what it meant, hurt more than Jon was willing to admit to himself. He did not trust Sansa with such a secret and he was baffled that no one else had figured it out. If they had, he was surprised that nothing had come of it. Howland had told him that Ned had purposely told the people of the North that he was a few months older than he was and when the man revealed his true name day, Jon laughed.

It was truly a time of insanity.

And then the raven arrived. When the maester handed him a scroll with the wax sigil of House Targaryen stamped onto its front, he was hesitant to open it. He had not heard anything of Daenerys Targaryen since Stannis. He was thankful that Sansa was not there when he received it. He requested Ser Davos and Howland to his solar, the solar of Ned Stark and the Lords and Kings that came before him.

A knock sounded. “Your Grace?”

“Come in.” He answered. 

Ser Davos and Howland easily noticed why they were summoned, the two of them were intelligent men and they noticed immediately that his eyes never left the scroll placed on the great desk before him. 

“A raven?” Ser Davos spoke first.

“From House Targaryen.” Jon said and Howland nodded thoughtfully. “I haven't read it.”

“I’d recommend doing so, Your Grace.” Ser Davos’ head tipped towards the scroll and Howland smiled in amusement, Jon chuckled. 

He delicately tore the wax seal from the parchment and unrolled it, reading the elegantly scripted words.

_ Jon Snow, Previous Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and King in the North, _

_ Daenerys and Aegon of the House Targaryen, Rightful King and Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protectors of the Seven Kingdoms and the Last Targaryens, have spoken their request for the North to bend the knee to the true heirs to the Iron Throne.  _

_ Westeros is a land filled with chaos and unrest under Lannister rule, and House Targaryen has come to end the tyranny of Cersei Lannister. The North had bent the knee to Aegon I Targaryen during the time of the Conquest, making a vow of perpetuity and peace. Daenerys and Aegon want to bring peace back to Westeros and its people, and peace can only be achieved through unity. _

_ Daenerys had birthed three dragons within the pyre of her late husband, Khal Drogo. Her mount is Drogon, the largest of her children and Aegon has been chosen by Rhaegal. With three fully grown dragons and several armies at their back, Cersei Lannister will not stand a chance against them.  _

_ It would be wise to act on their request.  _

_ Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Royal Guard and Hand of the Queen. _

He placed the scroll down and sighed into his palm, eyeing the large red Targaryen sigil imprinted into the parchment. Aegon Targaryen. Aegon. His brother.  _ Impossible _ , he thought as he swallowed back a choked sob. It was signed by Ser Barristan Selmy and he’d heard the stories of the man, of his loyalties to House Targaryen and that he had left the Baratheon Kingsguard. He would not lie about the survival of Aegon, Rhaegar’s son. Jon did not know how he survived the Sack of King's Landing but he did and he was with Daenerys. Were they married? It wouldn’t surprise him if they were. 

“Your Grace?” Howland questioned with concern. 

Jon straightened. “Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen have landed in Westeros.” 

Ser Davos’ eyes widened. “Aegon? Rhaegar Targaryen’s son?”

“One in the same.”

Howland didn't look shocked but a frown marked his usually serene face. “Their demands?”

“A request.” Jon told them, purposefully not speaking about their barely hidden threat. “To bend the knee and unite against Cersei and her allies. According to Ser Barristan Selmy, they want peace for Westeros and its people.”

“And you believe Ser Barristan? According to the rumours, Rhaegar’s son Aegon had his head smashed against a wall of the Red Keep during the Sack of King's Landing by Gregor Clegane.” Ser Davos stated. “He could be lying.”

Jon sighed through his teeth. “I trust Ser Barristan’s intuition. He served in King Aerys’ Kingsguard and watched Prince Rhaegar grow up. He is the only person alive today who knew him personally and I trust that he can recognise the son of his Prince. If Aegon had been an impersonator, Ser Barristan surely would have known.” Jon paused. “Also, Aegon has been chosen by one of Daenerys’ dragons as their rider.”

“What else has Ser Barristan written?” Howland asked. 

Jon traced the edge of the Targaryen sigil. “That they have several armies. Do either of you know what armies?”

Howland answered. “Daenerys has gathered a horde of Dothraki, many thousands. She also has an army of Unsullied.”

“How many?”

“Several thousand at least.”

“And Aegon?” Jon mused. “The Dornish will not hesitate to send their armies to him if they haven't done so already. They are loyal to their own, especially the son of their Princess.”

“Cersei doesn't have many allies.” Ser Davos informed. “And those she does have are because of Tywin.”

“The Boltons are dead.” Jon grinned savagely, his blood still sung. “The Freys are loyal to House Lannister because Tywin gave them what they wanted. The Riverlands are at a standstill. The Vale is allied with us.”

“The Iron Islands.” Howland said with realisation. 

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Since when do the Ironborn ally themselves with anyone?”

“They don’t.” Ser Davos said. 

Jon thought of Theon in that moment. “Theon has a sister, doesn’t he? Yara?”

“Yara Greyjoy, aye.” Ser Davos nodded. 

“Will one of you find out if the Greyjoys have allied themselves with House Targaryen?” He asked. 

“Aye, Your Grace.”

“The Stormlands are in a disarray because of the death of Robert, Stannis and Renly.” Jon noted that Ser Davos shifted on his feat uneasily but he didn't question it, the man would speak to him about what it was when he was ready. “The only army Cersei has is the Lannisters. And House Tyrell...”

“House Tyrell wont ally themselves with Cersei.” Howland said. “When she blew up the Great Sept of Balor, Lord Mace Tyrell, Loras Tyrell and Margaery Tyrell were inside. Olenna Tyrell is a smart woman and she values her family more than anything. She would want to see Cersei dead for killing three of her kin.”

The odds were against Cersei and Jon held no love for the Lannisters, it was just a shame that he couldn't inflict Northern justice upon them. Ghost would have loved to sink his teeth into their flesh just like Jon would have loved to watch Longclaw slice through their skin and bones. 

“Will you bend the knee to the Targaryens?” Ser Davos asked. 

“No.” Jon shook his head. “The Lords of the North proclaimed me their King and Robb’s will states my position within the North. If I bend the knee to them, I betray the North.”

“Once they defeat Cersei, they’ll set their eyes North.” Howland told him. 

“Then it will begin.” Jon’s eyes looked black.

* * *

Jon had not seen Tormund in days and the stress of rebuilding and healing the North was weighing him down. The Free Folk, for most of the day, were not inside. They roamed the Wolfswood and they hunted and they began socialising with the people of Winter Town (Jon was proud to say that the people of the North were welcoming when they finally looked past their prejudice). Jon didn't just want to visit his friend but he needed to. What he was about to ask for may not be granted, especially because of what happened before. When Tormund spotted Jon, a wide grin spread across his face and he distantly heard ‘King Crow!’ before he was tackled to the ground. Ghost moved out of the way in time to not get trampled on and he laughed with Tormund.

“King Crow.” Tormund lifted Jon up as easily as he lifted his axe. 

“Tormund.” He greeted him with a smile.

“Finally came to see us, King Crow?”

“I saw you six days ago.” Jon stated dryly. 

“Six days too long. Wun Wun misses you.” Tormund smirked. 

Jon chuckled. “I'll be sure to see him. But I am afraid that I am here to ask a favour.”

“Anything for you, Little Crow.” 

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. He had barely gotten used to King Crow before Tormund started to call him Little Crow. He didn't know if it was a term of endearment or not. He never knew with Tormund. 

“Where is your warg?”

Tormund’s smile dropped and his eyes hardened. “With Mag Mar. Why do you need our warg, King Crow?”

“Because I need to keep an eye on a few people.” He said.

“You forget you’re a skinchanger yourself, Little Crow?”

Jon sighed. “You know I can only fully warg with Ghost. I don’t have the time to practice with a bird and create a bond. I need your warg.”

Tormund eyed him. “Which few people?”

“My family.” Jon admitted.

“Thought your sister was in Winterfell?”

“It's complicated.” Jon said. “But the short version is that Ned Stark isn’t my father and I have an aunt and a brother that recently arrived in Westeros. I need to keep an eye on them.”

He knew that speaking it aloud could be potentially fatal if anyone were to hear but the only people even close were Free Folk and Ghost silent stare frightened any Northerner away who dared get too close. The Free Folk were loyal to Tormund and him, they would not speak a word if they overheard, Jon trusted them. 

“Alright, Little Crow.” Tormund agreed with a soft nod. “Come along.”

An old man was who Tormund pulled him to. They called him White Beard, his given name too unused to remember and the children refused to call him anything else. There were three birds flying in the sky above. He saw a north falcon, a snow owl and a tern. White Beard laughed when Jon asked him if he could warg into one of his birds, exclaiming that the King Crow can ask anything of him and he’ll do it. Jon murmured what he wanted to be done and White Beard’s eyes turned white, and the falcon chirped and changed course. It flew South.

After a visit and a quiet conversation with Wun Wun, Jon said goodbye to Tormund and returned to Winterfell. When he opened the door to his solar, he barely hid a hiss of irritation when he saw Sansa standing before the hearth. He had not spoken to her in more than three days. He wasn't purposefully avoiding her but if he had spent more time than necessary with the Northern Lords just so he wouldn't see her, well, that was his secret to keep. He didn't speak as he took off his cloak and placed it on the back of the great chair and sat down. Ghost sat tall and proud next to him, his posture reminding him of the stone direwolves in the crypts. Though Ghost was much larger than them. 

“Sansa.” Jon eventually acknowledged.

“Jon.” She looked irritated. “I’ve been looking for you all day.” 

“I was with the lords.” He said as he casually began to write on a piece of parchment. He needed to get it done. “I just got back from visiting the Free Folk. What is it that you wanted?”

“You haven't spoken to me about any of the decisions you have been making.” Sansa began. “I see the men building and the women working. I see the Free Folk wandering around the lands.”

Jon glanced at her for a second before focusing on his writing. “I am sorry to inform you but you are not my Hand, Sansa. That title does not belong to anyone as of yet.”

Sansa’s Tully eyes glared at him. “I am your sister! Do you think me so incompetent and stupid. You may be King in the North now but I am the last trueborn child of Ned Stark.”

Jon stopped. “Hmm, do you know what I recall, Sansa? That Robb had legitimised me in his will and declared me his heir. He thought that you were dead and thus, you weren't in his will. And as far as I know, before the will was found the Lords and Ladies of the North declared me their King. So yes, Sansa, I do think you can be stupid.”

She stared at him with an open mouth and wide eyed. “How dare-”

“Do you want to know why I haven't informed you of what I have been doing?” Jon spoke before she could answer. “Because you kept the fact that Petyr Baelish ordered the Knights of the Vale to Winterfell from me. Thousands of armed and mounted soldiers. Do you know what that cost us, Sansa? Hmm?” He raised a dark eyebrow. “It cost us Rickon. Our little brother. The last trueborn son of Ned Stark. It cost the Free Folk hundreds of their people. I would have planned the battle very differently had you told me about the Knights of the Vale.”

Sansa’s eyes were shining with tears and her lips trembled in a barely contained sob. 

“I have not told you nor discussed anything to do with my decisions with you, because I do not trust you.” She stared at him like the words he just spoke was an arrow to the back.

He knew the pain of taking an arrow to the back and what she was feeling was nothing in comparison to what he felt. 

“I am grateful that the Knights of the Vale are here. The more men I have the better. But that means that we are now in debt to Petyr Baelish.  _ Littlefinger _ . I would not have used his men unless I had to. And I did. So, what do you believe I should do about the debt we owe him?”

Sansa wiped at her cheeks, brushing away stray tears. “I don’t know.”

“Yes. Because you didn't think about it.” Jon stated. “How do you think Baelish got where he is now? It wasn't because he did good deeds, Sansa. It’s manipulation. It's secrets. It's a game. And right now, he has you cornered on the chessboard.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. 

Jon sighed. “I don’t hate you, Sansa. But I don’t love you. I could have but after Rickon…” He breathed and a tear fell from her eye. “You want my trust, you have to earn it.”

“I will. I swear it.” 

“Good. Now, tell me everything you know about Littlefinger.”

Apparently, Sansa knew a lot more than he originally thought.

* * *

“I ordered the brothers of the Night's Watch to allow any of the Free Folk still beyond the Wall through the gate. They will gather their strength and supplies at Castle Black then be directed to Winterfell.” 

Ser Davos hummed. “How many have already arrived?”

“Several dozen. Including ten giants.” Jon answered. “Their mammoths can’t get through the gate but Eastwatch by the Sea has a few ships. Two giants and twenty Free Folk are travelling with them. They should reach Winterfell in less than a moon's turn. Edd sends regular ravens and according to him, there are hundreds more Free Folk on the way.”

Howland was writing as he spoke. “Winterfell cannot house anymore men.”

“Don’t stress your southern brain.” Tormund snorted. “We Free Folk prefer the comfort of trees and earth to stone walls. We can set up camp outside. We are already halfway there.”

Jon nodded. “I will make sure that you have enough water. I know that you can hunt for yourselves but I feel better knowing you have a regular supply of food.”

“Aye. Don’t give yourself wrinkles worrying, King Crow.” Tormund smirked and Jon sighed fondly.

“Your Grace,” Ser Davos began, “Yara and Theon Greyjoy sailed to Meereen and made an alliance with Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen. They arrived at Dragonstone with the rest of the Targaryen fleet.”

Jon scratched Ghost behind his ear absentmindedly. “Do you know what their alliance was agreed upon?”

“No, Your Grace.” 

Jon did not send a raven to Dragonstone and he knew that he didn’t have to. The raven they sent was not meant to be replied to. It was a warning of what would come. The Seven Kingdoms did not have its name without the North but Jon was not planning on bending the knee to them. They may be his family but he was a King. He would do his duty. White Beard spoke with him about what his falcon had seen at Dragonstone. Hundreds upon hundreds of ships surrounded the island with Targaryen, Greyjoy, Tyrell and Martell sails. The lands were taken by camps and the castle was full. The falcon had not seen the dragons but White Beard said that he could taste the magic in the air.

Jon continued. “Thank you, Ser Davos. Lord Reed, what do you know about the situation in the Riverlands?”

Howland stopped writing and made eye contact. “As far as I know, the river lords one by one bent the knee to the Iron Throne until only three lords kept their keeps in Robb’s name. The Lannister’s had been successful in the siege of Raventree Hall and Riverrun. Brynden Tully escaped Riverrun and according to some, has acquired more than three thousand men under his command.”

“The Riverlands must be taken back.” He decided then. “Edmure Tully is a hostage and as far as I know, he was taken West. Who holds Riverrun?”

“The Freys.” Howland stated. “But as the moon’s pass more river lords are rebelling against them.” 

Jon hummed. “Good. If we find Brynden Tully and his men, that will be enough to take Riverrun. Blackfish knows the land and keep better than anyone, and the Freys do not know how to hold the castle.”

He could admit to himself that he was dreading meeting the Blackfish. Catelyn hated him and he was sure that she had sent many ravens to her family about that fact, that he couldn't be trusted and that he was going to attempt to take Robb’s lordship. It was absolutely ludicrous. He loved Robb and even when he tried to hate him he failed. The fact that he was now King in the North made what she thought merit some truth. He took back Winterfell from the Boltons and never expected anything from doing it but he was named King by the lords. He could only hope that the Blackfish did not have the same prejudice against him as his niece. 

“I will order several groups to scout the lands to try and locate him. Brynden is a smart man and a seasoned warrior, he would not have stayed in the Riverlands.”

“He would have gone North.” Ser Davos agreed. 

“He wouldn’t have gone far.” Howland said. “With the Boltons and the Freys, he would have to choose wisely about where he could station his men.”

“The Boltons are dead and Winterfell is back in the hands of House Stark, he would know that the lands are safer than before.” Jon then added. “And he would know that Sansa is here. He’d be close.”

“I’ll send the scouts immediately.” Ser Davos left with a nod Jon’s way. 

“And then there are the Freys.”

Jon killed the Boltons, a third of the people responsible for betraying Robb and murdering him. The Freys were another third. They were a weak house, little to no men and a disregard for the humane. When they find Brynden and his men, he will help them take back the Riverlands and kill the Freys. 

“If we find Brynden, we have an opportunity to take back the Riverlands and kill the Freys.” Jon said and Tormund looked delighted at the chance of killing. “And after that… I shall inform the lords about the Others beyond the Wall.”

“As long as the Wall stands, we have time.” Tormund said.

“Enough time to gather our resources.” Jon stroked his hand through Ghost’s fur. “And for the brothers of the Night's Watch to find evidence.” 

“Evidence!?” Tormund scoffed. “Evidence is that my people are south of the Wall. We were getting slaughtered and you saved as many of us as you could. You allowed us through the gate and it cost your life. That is our evidence.”

Howland shook his head. “I’m afraid that it won't be that simple, Tormund. The lords will follow Jon because he is their King but if he tells them about the Others and does so without evidence, he won't gain their favour.”

Jon spoke before Tormund could open his mouth and start shouting. “Tormund, we aren't in the True North anymore.” The giant man grumbled. “You know that I will do all I can.”

“Aye, King Crow. I know.”

As long as the Wall still stood, they had time. But Jon wouldn't take a gamble at how long they had. As soon as the Freys were dead and the Riverlands taken back, the true war would begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do need to point out that I totally forget to put in the scene where Jon tells Howland about the Others and the conversation that happens but... I'm too tired to do that. So Howland does know, just fyi.   
> Hope you enjoyed this mess of a chapter and I will post the next one soon.   
> Bye lovelies.


	4. Aegon VI Targaryen II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... here it is.  
> Haven't updated in a while. Why? Because of life.
> 
> So this may be a bit meh but I just really needed to update, for the readers and for myself.

Aegon, when he was told about Daenerys being gifted dragon eggs, was furious. It was Illyrio who gave them to her and Connington was especially angry when he heard. The magister had helped them after all and was a friend of Varys’, another who had helped Aegon with his journey around Essos. He was still a child then and he woke everyday wanting to find Daenerys and her brother, scheming to kill them and take the dragon eggs. But he pacified quickly when he realised that making an enemy out of his own family was another Dance of Dragons and he would not repeat history. Especially when word reached him that Daenerys had hatched her three dragon eggs within the pyre that burnt her husband's body. She was one Targaryen with three dragons and it was by the skin of his teeth that he did not go and find her. 

When he saw Rhaegal for the first time from afar, he grew sad. He did not see the green dragon hatch or breath his fire the first time. He did not see him grow from that of a small cat to a large horse. When Daenerys allowed him access to him, the green dragon and his brother were still healing from their time chained under the Great Pyramid. He feared if they spent any longer chained beneath the ground the damage done to them would have been nearly irreversible. The dragon named after his father accepted their bond and Aegon was almost drunk on the connection coiled within his mind. The secrets about his ancestors and their dragons were lost when the last dragon died. Daenerys and him had to learn as time passed. 

Aegon chose to not mount Rhaegal until they arrived at Dragonstone and he was so busy during the first several weeks there that he did not find the opportunity to do so. But then Daenerys ordered three of her Unsullied to take him to the dragon’s nest and not leave until they saw Aegon riding upon Rhaegal’s back. They left almost immediately. Rhaegal sensed his surge of confidence and lowered himself until his wing was tucked to his side and his neck was curled around it. He had never mounted him but he had watched Daenerys with Drogon enough times where climbing his wing and stradling the base of his neck was almost second nature. 

He clutched the large spikes at the base of Rhaegal's frilled neck and tensed his body when the green dragon rose. His strong legs jumped from the earth and before they could descend, Rhaegal opened his wings wide and flapped them, catching the wind. With several great pushes of his wings, they were soaring above Dragonstone and reaching the sky. He had never felt such a pure sense of wonder as he did in that moment and his body relaxed and he smiled, laughing as Rhaegal screeched. They flew until the sun set and the stars shone brightly.

Ever since, Aegon was sure to mount Rhaegal as often as he could. He never used to understand why Daenerys rode Drogon nearly everyday but when Aegon sat atop Rhaegal he never wanted to land once they were in flight. But as soon as he saw their council, he realised exactly why he needed to keep himself grounded. Conquering the Seven Kingdoms. Their allies remained on Dragonstone and aided them with their plans. Their experience and knowledge were valued and Olenna was very gleeful when she talked about Cersei’s death. 

“Without the Reach, Kings Landing will lose their main source of food,” Willas began, “And Cersei will keep all they have for herself and the Lannister army. The people will starve.”

“Then we gain the favour of the people.” Daenerys said. “When we surround Kings Landing we can do what my Unsullied did in Meereen. They gave weapons to the people but instead we can give them food and fresh water.”

Tyrion nodded. “There are tunnels under the city.”

“Cersei has ordered the rest of the Lannister men from Casterly Rock to join her in King's Landing.” Arianne stated. “She has left the West defenceless and Casterly Rock nearly empty. A mistake she doesn't realise she’s made.”

“It makes no difference.” Aegon said. “Her army will be behind the walls and in the Red Keep. We will focus on taking the Capitol, yes, but we cannot forget ourselves. Cersei will be well informed by now about the allies we have made.”

“Your Grace is correct. Cersei will want your allies gone. She hates House Martell for taking away her daughter-”

“Myrcella is healthy and safe.” Ellaria interrupted. 

Varys continued as if she never spoke. “-And so she will strike them first.”

“And the food that currently feeds all our armies are provided by us.” Olenna said. 

“She will strike you both at the same time if she could.” Aegon raised an eyebrow at Varys’ eager expression. “Yes, Lord Varys?”

“Cersei very well be able to, Your Grace. She has acquired a new ally.”

Daenerys frowned. “Who?”

“Euron Greyjoy.”

“Our Uncle.” Yara said with a hiss. “He killed our father and claimed the Salt Throne for himself. He demanded that a thousand ships be made.”

Ser Barristan spoke from their side. “This was before you sailed to Meereen?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is possible that he may have a fleet for himself by now.” 

“A fleet?” Aegon didn't hide his disbelief.

“A small one.” Ser Barristan nodded. “And if he really wanted a thousand, he may have stolen dozens. I wouldn't put it past him to do so.”

“Most likely.” Yara agreed.

“I will not take any chances.” Aegon refused to allow Cersei to gain an upper hand. “We will sail to the mainland and travel by horse. Euron is a Greyjoy, he fights with sea not the land. We can intercept the Lannister army before it reaches Kings Landing.”

“Yes, Euron Greyjoy is a fish on land.” Daenerys agreed. “Once we defeat the Lannister army, we can begin the siege of King's Landing. By that time many of you can return to your homes if you wish.”

Olenna snorted. “Not until I see Cersei’s head at my feet. Really, Darling, do you expect anyone in this room to go back home and await the news of your victory?”

Daenerys grinned. “Perhaps not.” 

“When I see Aegon walk into the Red Keep and see the Iron Throne, I will be content enough to go back to Sunspear.” Arianne said and Quentyn and Ellaria nodded.

“What of the North?” Aegon questioned Ser Barristan. 

“The raven was sent and not replied to.” Ser Barristan answered. 

“With what you wrote, I’m not surprised.” Connington muttered. 

Aegon sighed. “Do you believe they will bend the knee?”

“No, Your Grace, I do not think they will.”

Aegon clenched his jaw. “That is a problem.”

“The North was affected more than anyone after the War of the Five Kings and Robb Stark’s death.” Theon said quietly and Aegon startled, he forgot about the man. “And the Boltons… they nearly destroyed the North with their rule. The people will not bend. The lord's will not bow. And their King will not kneel.” 

The people in the room looked as shocked and interested as he did. “Continue.”

“Jon Snow is a bastard but Lord Stark made sure that he was taught with Robb when they were young. Everything from how to look after your own keep to weilding a sword. Jon always defeated Robb when they fought. And Jon was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he knows more than a few things on how to command his own men. He was named the King in the North by the people and the lords, he would not betray that by bending the knee to a southern ruler.” 

“I promised myself that I will take what is mine with fire and blood.” Daenerys did not look pleased. 

Aegon placed a hand on her arm. “The North knows that they have time to come to a decision. If they chose not to be under our rule, then a meeting shall be called. If they refuse our offer again, then and only then shall we take what is ours with fire and blood. Daenerys?”

She nodded with a tense sigh and Aegon let his hand fall back onto the arm of his chair. He did not want to put the North through more bloodshed and despair but when Daenerys and he take the Iron Throne, the North will be one of the seven kingdoms that they will rule over. He would do what he had to in order to bring peace and prosperity to Westeros. He could only hope that speaking with the King in the North was a chance to convince him to do what was right, like the first Aegon did with King Torrhen Stark.

* * *

The ships were ready to depart several days after Aegon and Daenerys commanded they leave Dragonstone. Men were left behind to hold the ancient castle. Hundreds of ships left the shores of Dragonstone and like their becoming, they sailed towards the mainland. Daenerys' three ships she named after their ancestor’s dragons; Balerion, Vhagar and Meraxes, carried their allies and themselves. Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion were more than happy to fly over the sea, diving into the water and eating the fish despite their large size. They were intelligent creatures, they didn't dive anywhere near the fleet. They caused strong waves and tides when they did. They were growing everyday and Viserion, the smallest of Daenerys’ dragons, was quickly catching up to his brothers. He felt a great amount of sadness watching the gold and cream dragon. Drogon and Rhaegal were the mounts of Daenerys and he respectively. Viserion had no one. He could almost imagine it, a head of dark hair of the person riding the lone dragon. His sister, if she lived, would have been his rider. 

Viserion would not join them in battle, a dragon without a rider was vulnerable, especially if their enemies had managed to build scorpions. The one thing Aegon didn’t appreciate about Dorne was that they made the first scorpions and killed Meraxes and along with him Rhaenys. He may have the blood of House Martell but he was a Targaryen, the death of the dragons weighed heavy in his heart. He couldn't imagine losing Rhaegal.

They discussed their plans during their time at sea. While Dragonstone was not far from the mainland, the sea began raging not three days after they departed the island. Aegon spent his time below deck speaking with Daenerys and their advisors. The Lannister army was on foot and while Cersei ordered them to the Capital, they would rest during the night. It gave them time. Connington estimated that they would battle at the Goldroad or closer to Blackwater Rush. And that was where they would rain down fire and blood on their enemies. Destroying the Lannister army rendered Cersei vulnerable and when she was vulnerable, she was reckless. Tyrion had spoken about how she loved her children more than anything and that losing them one by one must have broken her mind. She was dangerous. She was a lion without a pack, a lioness who lost her pups. She destroyed the Great Sept of Baelor when her last son was alive, he could imagine what she would do now that she was alone and still had many stashes of wildfire. Their plans depended on her being dangerous. The worst possible outcome was the destruction of Kings Landing. Aegon prayed it would not come to that. 

He was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms and the title of King ensured his position but it also placed every life in Westeros in his hands. 

His duty ranked above all else. 

* * *

The thousands of men in their armies cheered when they arrived on the shores of the mainland, near Duskendale. Their numbers were many and it took days for them all to gather their supplies and depart the shore. The Dothraki may have grown used to the poisoned water but that did not mean they enjoyed it, especially obvious when he saw hundreds of them embracing the grass after being at sea for weeks. The Unsullied, the Dornish, the Reach, the Dothraki and the Golden company soldiers made an army of more than one hundred thousand people, and then they had three grown dragons at their sides.

The war for their home began.

“We will pass Harrenhal.” Aegon realised then as he looked at the drawn map before him.

They had set up camp near Sow’s Horn and House Hogg had been threatened into submission by the sight of their dragons alone. The thousands of men they could see for miles also convinced them not to attempt an attack or send a raven informing of their location. It was difficult enough to travel with the amount of men they have but they made do, Daenerys and Aegon were fortunate that they had experienced men and women in their council.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Connington nodded tensely.

Harrenhal. The beginning for the end of his family. The tourney that destroyed all hope for a peaceful reign after Aerys. That was where his father gave a crown of winter roses to Lyanna Stark, ignoring his own wife and the mother of his children. He never understood why and Connington, who claimed to know his father well, could not tell him, for he himself did not know. Rhaegar, who had shown kindness and justice and mercy to others all his life, kidnapped and raped a lady of the North, a child of House Stark. He tried to ignore it, erase it from his mind and think only of the stories, the memories, that Connington told him of his father. How he was beloved by the small folk, that he loved to read and sing and play his harp. That he grew to be a great knight. He was a good man and he would have healed Westeros from the Mad King's torture.

He knew, from the fire within him, that his father was a good man and what he did and why he did it would never come to light, the truth was lost with his death and the death of his mother and Lyanna.

“We will camp near the Gods Eye.” Ser Barristan said, the emotions on his face stoic but noticeably wavering. “From there, we will travel fast to meet the Lannister army near the Goldroad.”

Daenerys looked pleased. “How many men can we assume?”

“Thousands.” Ser Toyne answered. “More than five thousand, minimum.”

Aegon nodded, hands spread and shoulders tense. “Tywin Lannister may have won the war of the five kings but it did not come without loss. Thousands of his own men dead and more injured, unable to fight again. And with him dead, House Lannister is that further weakened.”

“They are sheep, cattle compared to us and our dragons.” Daenerys smirked.

Aegon agreed, his own vicious thirst showing with his sharp smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely going to be heavily edited at a later date but for now, its gonna stay this way. I hope you enjoyed and more chapters should be on the way.


	5. Jon Snow III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while but it was holiday season and new years so it was really busy in my household. This is not a long chapter and I know it may feel a bit jumbled and rushed but I really wanted to get a chapter out for those who are waiting for one.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Brynden Tully was a smart man. He was tactical and while raised in the Riverlands, clearly knew how to use the Northern lands to his advantage. Jon had sent out the best scouting party in Winterfell, however, and so locating the Blackfish and his men was a simpler feat. They remained close to the Riverlands, they were found camped a few miles outside Moat Cailin. And as he expected, Brynden refused to come so easily. Jon merely sent a raven in return, carrying a small piece of parchment that read ‘ _ Sansa is alive and well in Winterfell _ ’, and while brief, he prayed that it made him think about the only piece he had left of Catelyn. The Blackfish’s love for his family was something Jon was counting on.

And as he watched from Winterfell’s southern wall as a few thousand men appeared on the horizon with a singular man riding at their front, he allowed a small smirk to grace his face.

He had told Sansa about Blackfish, he had been cruel and her Great Uncle arriving allowed for a breath of fresh wind between them. She understood that she deserved what she was given and while she may have told him all she could about Littlefinger, what she had done would not be forgiven nor forgotten.

Jon did not greet the Blackfish at the gate, he had ordered Sansa to guide her Uncle to his solar where Ser Davos and Lord Reed would be waiting. It was not a rude gesture; a King did not have to greet their own subjects but it certainly revealed Jon’s own feelings towards the older man. It could be considered childish and Jon knew himself that it was but he had the strength when he never had before. He was not weak, he was not mindless and he was no longer the bastard son of Eddard Stark. He would not cower before Brynden Tully.

And so when the man himself walked through the door with a heavy glare on his wrinkled face, Jon’s back remained straight, his broad shoulders arched back and he held his head high. He stared into his eyes.

“Ser Brynden Tully.” Jon greeted, not sparing a glance at Sansa who shuffled nervously, realising she was not welcome.

Blackfish turned to speak to her but she gave him a weak smile before closing the door to his solar, her steps echoing until silence broke.

_ “ She is alive and well in Winterfell _ _,_ you wrote.” Bryden did not sit. “She stares at you like a person stares at their executioner.”

The Blackfish was angry. He had every right to be of course, Sansa was the only person of his blood alive apart from Edmure.

“She fears me,” Jon corrected, “She understands that I do not trust her.”

Bryden gritted his teeth. “She is the daughter of Lord and Lady Stark, the only child of theirs alive. She should be the Queen of the North. A bastard should not be King.”

Lord Reed tensed and Jon continued calmy. “That is true. Robb Stark is dead. Arya Stark is missing, assumed dead. Bran Stark is missing, assumed dead. And Rickon Stark is dead, heart pierced with an arrow outside these walls.” He said nothing for a moment. _“_ _ Sansa Stark _ is directly responsible for one of their deaths. Do you know who, Blackfish?”

The older man faltered. 

“Ramsay Snow had Rickon as a hostage and as soon as we knew for certain, Sansa had immediately given up on him without a care his way. She neglected to tell me that she had made a deal with Petyr Baelish, a deal which gave her the Knights of the Vale. The battle would have gone very differently had I been informed about more than three thousand armed and saddled men riding to Winterfell to give aid. Rickon may have lived had I known.”

Bryden cursed and with a heavy thump, he had all but fallen into the only remaining chair.

Jon sighed heavily. “Sansa may not have killed Rickon but she was responsible for his death. The death of her own brother and the only remaining trueborn son of Lord Stark.” It would not surprise Jon if Sansa wanted him to die that day as well, but he did not say so aloud. “I was the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. I trusted those I shouldn't have. I will not make that mistake twice.”

“The people of the North chose Jon to be their King,” Howland stared at a tired Brynden Tully. “And despite what you may think, Ser Brynden, they chose right. Jon may be a bastard but he is Ned Stark’s son, he has the blood of winter in him, the blood of kings.”

Brynden stared at him, eyes dark with age and cheeks hollow with hunger. “Cat would often send ravens to my brother. More often than not they would contain hateful words about her husband's bastard. His hair, dark as a raven’s feather. His eyes, as cold as steel. She stated how she hated that her own child looked more like a bastard than the bastard did.”

Jon took a deep breath to calm himself, shaking away Lord Reed’s concerned gaze. He already knew that Catelyn hated him, Brynden’s words only added to the fact. 

“She gave him five children. And he gave her a bastard.” Brynden chuckled, it wasn't harsh or intended to offend, it was filled with grief. “She was not a cruel woman but I knew that she showed you the worst side of her, consumed with jealousy and grief and confusion. It was worse when she wrote how no matter what she did she could never convince Lord Stark to send you away. I wanted to write back, tell her that a bastard was a product of Lord Stark’s desires, and that it was not kind to place the blame on a child... She hated you.”

“I was aware.” Jon said bluntly. 

Blackfish chuckled. “I don’t hate you. I don’t like you. But you defeated Ramsay and his men. You gave Winterfell back to House Stark. You protected my niece. And despite her lies and her secrets, she stood before me; healthy and warm and protected. The North named you their King and so that is what you are.”

Jon lifted his head and stared at the man, steel eyes darkening to black.

* * *

Brynden Tully was a military man before anything else. And Jon was grateful that he had accepted Jon as king and that he had agreed - he didn’t bother to hide his murderous glare which they shared - to bring the Freys to justice. Taking back the Riverlands was what they would be focusing on. However, Jon did not want to demand more men of the North to fight in a battle when they shed and lost enough of their blood during Robb’s war with the South. Which meant that Jon would have to count on the Free Folk, the Knights of the Vale and the Blackfish’s men. He knew Tormund would agree to it without a thought and all the capable Free Folk will pick up their weapons in a heartbeat should he ask. He did not want to but he knew that he would. Blackfish’s men were under his command and they were several thousand, all who were ready and skilled enough for battle. The Knights of the Vale, however, was a problem he had yet to solve. He was already in debt to Littlefinger because of Sansa’s reckless and thoughtless decision, he did not want to owe the man twice. But the knights were eighteen thousand men strong, fully armed and saddled.

It would seem that Jon had to get rid of Littlefinger fast and clean. He was not looking forward to it, the man was smart and he survived all his years because of that, adding several betrayals and deceptions along the way. He was not a simple opponent. He was a player of the game of thrones.

“Littlefinger is not a good man, Ser Brynden.” Jon began. “He is a man of lies and he is a man of betrayals. He does what he wants to get what he wants.”

The old man sighed. “Everyone knows Baelish is another master of whispers… The difference is he is loud about it.”

Jon’s brow rose. “He certainly is. It is one of the reasons he will be more difficult to kill.”

Blackfish choked. “What!?”

Howland smiled in amusement and Jon silently rolled his eyes at the man. “Yes, Ser Brynden, Lord Baelish will be killed.”

“Why?” He demanded. “You can’t just kill the Lord of the Vale!”

He sighed. “Yes, which is the predicament at the moment. But if you know what I know, Ser, you’ll want him dead just as much as I do.”

“Then tell me.”

“Littlefinger killed Lysa Arryn.” Jon stated without warning and Brynden’s eyes quickly filled with anger.

“How do you know this?”

“Your niece told me. She was there when it happened and she lied to the Vale nobles. An innocent man was charged for the murder and Littlefinger was then, by proxy, the Lord of the Vale because he married Lysa.”

Brynden was silent and Jon allowed the man to think through what he had told him. It would have been better - certainly faster - to tell the man everything at once but Jon was sure that the man would not do well taking in everything that Jon was going to say. Going slow was the best option for Brynden.

“Sansa does not know everything that the man has done. No one does. She knows enough, however, to state clearly to me that Littlefinger was the one who sent the cut throat to kill Bran.” Jon said.

He tried to hide his fierce thirst for the man’s blood, carding his fingers through Ghost’s thick fur to calm himself. He had not been truly angry since he had beaten Ramsay and after that when he had confronted Sansa about her lies and her betrayal. But when she had told him about Littlefinger’s attempt on Bran’s life, he had to physically stop himself from finding the man and using Longclaw to cleave him open from neck to groin. He loved Bran and knowing that his life could have been taken by the order of a coward, a man behind a tapestry, made him furious. 

Brynden cursed harshly. “Lysa. Bran. Who else?!”

“I believe,” Jon hesitated a second too long, “that Littlefinger was the cause of many atrocities that befell House Stark. I do not know everything, Ser. But what I do know leads me to believe that the death of Lord Stark may have been orchestrated by him.”

“Ned was killed on Joffrey’s orders.” Bryden said. 

He nodded in agreement. “He was. But his imprisonment wasn't.”

“And this is all that you know.” Blackfish sighed deeply. “What else has that man done to my family?”

Jon spoke. “There is good news, Ser.”

“Good news? Something still horrible but not as bad as what you have just told me?” Brynden raised a grey eyebrow.

“No. Sansa says that Bran still breathes, that his heart still beats beneath his breast.”

Brynden gasped. “Bran?! Alive?”

Jon smiled. “Aye. Theon helped Sansa escape and before they parted he told her that he did not kill Bran nor Rickon, but two stable boys in their place.”

Blackfish cried then, a few tears and a heavy breath. Jon did not cry when he found out, not in front of Sansa. When the moon shone bright in a sky full of darkness, Jon curled up with Ghost before his hearth and shed his tears. He had lost Rickon to the Old Gods and he swore then that he would not lose Bran to them as well. House Stark had all but been decimated, Bran being alive gives him hope.

“Ser Brynden.” Howland spoke from his place by the fire, the parchment in his hand rolled neatly as he spoke. “Taking back the Riverlands and bringing justice to the Freys is our King’s priority but we cannot allow Littlefinger to assume dominance because of the debt that he knows he is owed. The fault of that debt lies with Sansa but it will be Jon who will make sure that Littlefinger can never claim it. We do not know his plans.”

“However,” Jon continued after Howland, “Littlefinger is a man of the South and the North he once knew has survived through war and blood and massacres. The North remembers, Ser Brynden, and Littlefinger will regret angering her.”

Jon and Ghost showed their teeth in a union. Ghost thirsted for blood. Jon thirsted for justice.

He thirsted for fire and blood.

* * *

Jon and Ghost were sitting before the hearth in his chambers. The silence was calming. He needed it after all the days he had spent doing nothing but his duties, they started to blend together, one after another. Ser Davos forced - spoken to him - Jon to his chambers and demanded he get some rest, according to him he looked like a wight ready to fall. He was glad he did not argue, having time to himself, to sit with Ghost and think, allowed him to further his plans.

Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, Lord of the Vale and the man holding command over the Knights of the Vale. While Sansa may have been the one to make a deal with Littlefinger, it was Jon who was going to live the consequences of it. Owing the man would not lead to something good, especially in his case. He had seen the way the man looked at Sansa. It was sickening. But it gave Jon a piece of information he needed. He wouldn’t hurt Sansa, most likely his plans have a lot to do with her; gaining her love and affection, an attempt to gain what he lusted for. He knew that the man wanted nothing but power and if he could capture Sansa in his clutches during the process, it would be a sweeter victory for him. He would not forget that the man allowed Catelyn to get butchered, however, and so Sansa’s life was not completely safe from him. Before Jon and Brynden take back the Riverlands, Littlefinger needs to be gone. And the only way to get rid of a pest was to kill it.

Ghost huffed and Jon smiled down at him. “Rest boy, we have a tiring day tomorrow.”

He knew that Ghost wasn’t going to rest until he did and he was not going to be retiring to his bed for a while.  _ Stubborn wolf _ , he thought fondly as he shook his head, the black of his hair brushing against his cheeks. He wanted to cut it. His hair had always been a feature of his that people used to mock him about. As pretty as a princess.

But he knew now that his hair was his mothers, dark and wild like she was.

**Author's Note:**

> I always welcome comments, though anything mean will be deleted. I only accept constructive criticism and advice, so feel free to leave comments like those. And kudos are always welcome. If you don't leave a comment, leave a kudo. 
> 
> I hope you liked it and if you did, more chapter should be on the way.


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